


Hot on your Heels

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bad Puns, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By request for wienermeister. The Scout gives the Medic a foot rub and things get out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot on your Heels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [your_bro_joe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bro_joe/gifts).



> Just as a warning, if you are squicked out by feet, this is not the fic for you. If you’re into feet, then hey! Maybe you’ll like this.

The Medic practically limped into the respawn locker. He loosened the straps of the Medipack and dropped it with a thud on the bench, and then followed suit, collapsing heavily onto the wood. Slowly, he reached up to push his glasses up to his forehead, and to rub at his eyes. He groaned into his hands and slumped forward, stretching out his feet in their boots, rolling his back and his shoulders to a chorus of audible pops. 

Upward was always fairly hard on him. 

The Scout, busy unwrapping the athletic tape from his hands, watched the rest of the team stow their weapons and head out of ‘Spawn, either toward the showers, or the rec room, or in one case, out the doors to resume a habit of solitude in a camper van. The Medic, however, did not look particularly keen to move any time soon. The man cracked his neck loudly and grunted, rubbing soreness out of his muscles, drawn tight by the heft of his pack and Medigun. His head hung heavy as he peeled off his gloves, just that seeming to exhaust him. The gloves hit the bench with a smack.

"Tired?" the Scout asked, rather pointlessly. The Medic looked up at him, with red marks on his nose from his glasses pinching there, and said nothing. His haggard face was enough. 

"Well," the Scout continued, flexing one unwrapped hand and starting work on the other, "Why dontcha take a nice, hot shower?" He was planning to do the same, as soon as he got his hands unwrapped.

The Medic made an agonized sound. 

"I don’t even think I could stand up that long," he admitted. "My feet are killing me."

"Oh, I know that feelin’," the Scout chimed in, "It’s all those fuckin’ missions in the snow that kill me. I swear, we get done those days and my feet are so numb it fuckin’  _stings_. Winter in Boston might be colder but at least someone gets the lead out to plow the goddamn streets.” 

The Medic merely nodded along as the Scout monologued, too tired to even object to the runner’s incessant noise. 

"Only thing that helps when my feet get like that is to soak ‘em in hot water an’ then rub ‘em forever. ‘Course, that makes my hands sore, so then I gotta soak them, too…" 

The Scout went on, but the Medic wasn’t listening. He concentrated instead on rubbing his back, feeling out the knots in his muscle groups. It wasn’t until the Scout was moving the Medipack onto the floor, so he could sit straddling the bench, that the Medic even took notice of him again. 

"Why did you—" he began, but the Scout was pulling on his pantleg, jostling his aching legs, and telling him to go on and move. "Move where? Why? What?" the Medic was flustered. It seemed he’d missed something, but the Scout just slapped the Medic’s knee good-naturedly and told him to give over his feet. He even began lifting the Medic’s foot into his lap when he didn’t move fast enough.

"What are you doing?" the Medic managed, finally. 

"You said yer feet hurt. Figured I’d help you out, since, y’know. You heal my ass. An’ all that. So. Move yer feet." 

With great hesitation, the Medic allowed the Scout to pull his left boot into his lap. 

"Aw, man. Well, I mean, no wonder. You ain’t got no zippers or laces or nothin’!" He started to tug the smooth leather down the Medic’s calf. "Nice boots though. Leather’s real soft. Could use a shine, but…" 

"Oh don’t start that, you’ll sound like the Soldier!" the Medic complained, but the Scout was already pulling the boot over his heel and off. The Medic had barely a moment to be embarassed about how sweaty his socks must be before the Scout whipped that off, too, and cradled the doctor’s bare foot between his thighs. 

"Just relax, why doncha?" the Scout urged, his thumbs digging into the callused ridge on the ball of the Medic’s foot, just shy of his toes. The Medic couldn’t help it; his breath caught on a gasp, and he released it as a long sigh as the Scout’s baseball strengthened fingers dug into his sore feet and worked all the aches out. 

"Scoot up a little," the Scout instructed, and the Medic happily edged closer to the runner, delighting in the increased pressure with the better angle. The Scout moved his hands down the Medic’s foot, working into the arch, long strokes of his rough thumbs sending tingles out to the Medic’s toes, and up to his knees. 

When the Medic glanced at the Scout, he almost laughed at the way the Scout bit his lips with concentration. But, as the Scout’s blunt fingers worked hard into the heel, the Medic could hardly concentrate on anything at all, himself. 

“ _Ach,_  yes. There! Harder, please,” he breathed, laying back on the bench. The Scout complied, pressing his thumbs in harder, and the Medic moaned. “Yes, ah, just like that!” 

The harder the Scout pressed, the more it hurt, and the better it felt. He conveyed this to the Scout as eloquently as he could: “Ugn,  _Scout…_ ”

At this, the Scout paused, his hands still wrapped around the Medic’s strongly arched foot. Halfway to desperate, the Medic lifted his head to demand more, to find out why on God’s green earth had the Scout stopped that wonderful pressure on his poor, aching foot. Their eyes met and the Scout immediately bent to his task again. 

He worked the Medic’s foot over, between the toes and all over the sole, even up to the delicate ankle with its prominent bones. All the while, the Medic gasped and moaned and twitched and pleaded and groaned oaths and encouragements alike into the empty room. When the Scout switched over to the other foot, yanking the boot and sock down, the Medic arched his foot into the Scout’s hands without hesitation.

The Scout began as he did with the first foot, working in around calluses and roughness, sliding his fingers between the Medic’s toes. 

"Oh," the Medic panted. "Oh,  _Scout._  This is… So good. I can not believe how good it feels.”

"Yeah?" the Scout asked distantly, his attention on his hands, and the Medic’s feet. 

"Jaaaa…" the Medic sighed, allowing the Scout to brace his foot against one of the runner’s own slim shoulders, so he could massage up the calf, behind the knee, down the shin to the foot again. All the while, the Medic pleaded and moaned, until the Scout turned his face, and kissed the sole of the Medic’s foot.

The Medic jumped, and yanked his foot away. He was shocked, but the Scout looked even more so, frozen in absolute terror.

Slowly, the Medic extended his foot again, and touched it to the Scout’s hands. The Scout stared at it with wide eyes, then looked up at the Medic, who nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Given permission, the Scout scrambled to lift the Medic’s foot to his face. He kissed under the Medic’s toes and over the ball to nose into his arch. Then, with only a slight pause, he licked a stripe from heel to toe, and sucked the Medic’s largest toe into his mouth. 

The Medic jolted and shivered. “That tickles!” he exclaimed, clutching hard to the bench. 

The Scout only moaned around the toe, and that, too, tickled. 

"Ach, but your mouth is so hot!" the Medic cried, feeling the Scout’s tongue sneaking between his toes, and teeth scraping the undersides. 

"Yeah? I’m pretty damn good with my mouth, huh? Even though I guess I’m doing the soak then massage thing backwards. Still. Uh. Well." He stuttered, and the Medic wondered if the Scout had just realized what he’d been doing. "I uh. I guess I’ll get back to it. Um. Yeah." 

He sucked the heel, and licked at the sensitive spot he’d found in the dips under the Medic’s anklebones. His tongue made hot, wet passes all over, but he couldn’t stay away from the toes, twitching in his mouth as the Medic fought the urge to curl against the tickling. If he opened his mouth wide enough, he could just about get all of them in, though it was a messy business. He slurped over them and then pulled back, poking his tongue between the first and second toes again. 

“ _Scout,_  I can’t— It feels so odd but also so good! I don’t, ha—” he laughed, breathlessly, “I don’t think  _this_  is covered in the Journal of Podiatry.” 

"Well, maybe I shoulda been a doctor," the Scout teased, before kissing the pad of each toe. 

"Mmm, would you administer to  _all_  of your patients, like this?” the Medic asked, his back bowing off of the bench. 

"Nah, prob’ly not," the Scout answered. He sucked the Medic’s toes until the doctor lay gasping, then switched to the other foot. 

"Good, I think I’d rather be special, if only in that regard." The Medic realized he was babbling. He hardly knew what he was talking about. He’d never thought something like this would feel so good… He’d never thought about it at all. But, with the Scout holding his left foot, his tongue swirling under the big toe, he definitely  _was_  thinking about it. He was thinking about the Scout’s mouth, devoted to its task, wringing sounds of pleasure out of him, and he was thinking about his bare right foot, resting comfortably against the warm, rough material of the Scout’s pantleg. And perhaps it was a bit warmer than should reasonably be expected, and the give under his foot was a little…

He sat up on his elbows to look, and realized the Scout was hard in his pants, and if he flexed his toes a little, experimentally, the Scout sucked in a breath and his shoulders straightened and he paused in licking with his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. 

"Ugn, Doc, you-uh. You know what you’re doin’?"

"Well. I suppose I am massaging you while you massage me." He rubbed the ball of his foot over the Scout’s fly, and the Scout pitched forward, groaning and still clutching the Medic’s left foot tight to himself. "But don’t you dare stop," the doctor commanded.

The Medic wasn’t particularly dextrous with his feet, but the Scout moaned enthusiastically around his toes, anyway. The mere thought of it made his brows knit as he tried to keep up his efforts on the Medic’s foot, thoroughly distracted. 

"Doc, I dunno how much longer I can—"

"No, neither do I," the Medic rasped, and when the Scout opened his eyes, it was to see the Medic with his trousers open, and his hand moving quickly up and down his stiff cock. 

"Aw, fuck," the Scout whined, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the Medic’s arch.

"Mm, jaa!" the Medic crooned, his hand building speed. 

Moaning into the ticklish skin, the Scout fairly wrapped himself around the Medic’s foot, until, with a final, shuddering sound from somewhere deep within him, the Scout came, staining the front of his slacks and seeping hot and wet under the Medic’s toes.

When the Scout slumped, panting, against the Medic’s knee, the Medic arched his back into his hand. His fingers flew over his cock, and the Scout reached out a tired, trembling hand to palm the Medic’s balls through his trousers. The Medic barked out a shout, possibly a curse, and came onto his twitching belly, across his bloodstained coat in ecstatic stripes. 

"Oh. Oh  _Scout…_ " he wheezed, wiping his fingers on his ruined uniform. "… I should ask you for foot rubs more often." 

The Scout looked up from the Medic’s softening cock to meet the wicked glint in the man’s eyes. Incredulous, he laughed. Quietly, the Medic joined him. 

He sat up, tucked himself away, and cleaned his glasses. The Scout assessed the damage to the crotch of his pants. 

"So," the Medic began, somewhat startling the Scout. 

"Uh, yeah?" He’d be content to go on without discussing it, leave it as their dirty little secret. But, the Medic had a sincere thirst for knowledge, and the runner felt he knew what was coming.

"Feet… They are a fetish for you?"

"What?" That wasn’t entirely what he’d expected.

"Feet," the Medic repeated slowly, "Are they a f—"

"No!" the Scout interrupted. "I mean, maybe? I mean. I dunno. You just sounded so good, and I just wanted to make you moan some more? And I mean, I guess you have pretty nice feet. Or. Somethin’." The Scout fidgeted with his fingers. "Look I’m sorry if that crossed a line, okay, just— just don’t…"

He looked pleadingly at the doctor, who shed his stained coat and sighed. “Don’t worry, Scout. I’m not keen on spreading  this around either.” Then, he slid a sideways glance at the Scout, with a wry grin. “Besides, should the team find out, they might come seeking similar treatment, and I’d hate to have to wait in line for your attentions. I’m only generous to a point, you know.”

"So you want me all to yourself?" the Scout ribbed, poking the Medic in the side. Then, "Wait, you  _do_  want me, right?”

The Medic gave him a look, and the Scout puffed up. 

"Good. I mean, uh. ‘Course ya do. Cuz, I am the best at foot rubs. And, y’know. Whatever else. Whatever you want, really."

"That’s what I like to hear," the Medic answered, grinning. 

"Maybe I oughta start chargin’ for my services," the Scout teased. 

"Oh? Well, I’d be willing to foot the bill."

"You— oh, goddammit!" But the Medic was laughing, and the Scout couldn’t force himself to be mad. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp. There it is. This was a challenge for me to write. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> And, as usual, you can find me on tumblr for fanfic that won't be on AO3. c:


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